When I turned my camera lens towards this climbing rose putting out its new and very special spring leaves I did not expect to see in the image things that my eye had missed.

But this can be the way with cameras and eyes. More commonly it is that the camera has not recorded what my eye was seeing. However in this instance it was the recorded image that made me pause.

The grey background of the fence was one detail I had overlooked and in the whole picture it had become a key aspect. It allowed the light, the gloss and sheen of these fresh, bronzey, silver, green leaves to stand out even more. Such a display of early new spring growth is very short-lived and within days these leaves look very different. Such is the nature of the abundance of spring energy.

I am still contemplating on this photograph and it may be that no great hidden message exists in it for me. It might just be that the stunning digital workings of the camera, combined with nature in a special moment has offered me a gem to enjoy in many ways.

On 12th April 2014 my brother, four years my junior, died suddenly and unexpectedly.

This very apt piece was read out at his funeral:
Not, how did he die, but how did he live?
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.
Not what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with a word of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away?

Anon

This last rose of autumn, decaying on its stem was in the garden at the Funeral Home. It symbolises a lot for me.